Why
by levicorpxs
Summary: WRITTEN FOR THE QLFC LITTLE LEAUGE: RAVENCLAW. Why was she nothing? Why did she have to be his everything? The rage is hard. It takes over, ripping and tearing at your mind, until you're nothing. Nothing at all. Why? That was the question. And she didn't know the answer. (NOTE: I had to delete this and now I have reposted it because of editing reasons).


**Written for the Quidditch League Fan fiction Competition (QLFC)**

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 **Team: Ravenclaw (Little League)**

 **Prompt: writing about anger, without using the word anger/angry**

 **word count (not including the author's notes): 992**

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 **DISCLAIMER: I think we can all agree, that I, in no shape or form, am NOT JKR. If I was, why would I be here, on a site called "fan fiction" ?**

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 **Enjoy**

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The rage is hard. It takes over, ripping and tearing at your mind, until you're nothing. Nothing at all.

 **…** **oOo…**

It was just something she was used to now: trying not to think of him. It frustrated herself and Harry to no end because she just couldn't speak or hear of him. It was too hard.

Why?

That was the question.

And she didn't know the answer.

Hermione Granger was a mess. Her features represented her rage. Her hair was slightly matted and her clothes where coated in grime. Her tear-stained cheeks where no longer rosy red, but as pale as porcelain. One of her best friends had just walked out on them, and she was not going to let him get away with it.

The next few days seemed to fly. Her fury hung in the air like thick, black smoke. It would not go away, no matter how much Harry tried. Every time he mentioned him, she stalked off.

The rage would sometimes be replaced with sadness, but not for long. She remembered his smile, his laugh, oh how she missed such a beautiful sound. In those moments, she couldn't help but smile. She would quickly tear the emotion from her face and the fury returned. She would think of his sneer, the way he spat her name when he left, and she would feel tears beginning to fall. But again, she would rid herself of emotions and hang onto the frustration.

It was her own thoughts and feelings that kept her alive. Without them she would be nothing. Like a doll: limp and lifeless.

It was hard for her to not think about him, whether it was in sadness, fury or happiness. She couldn't stop. But every time her mind trailed off, she would bring back the rage. It had sort of become her motto, 'bring back the rage'. She pretty much lived by it now.

Her most favourite words now consisted of 'rage' and 'why'. She said it every day.

"Why doesn't he care?"

"Why do I think he cares?"

"I know he does, I can feel it, so then why did he do this?"

"Why did he leave?"

"Why didn't he stay?"

"Why?"

That was the question.

It was a mystery to Hermione how he even managed to get back home. That is, if he actually did get home. She missed him, she knew it, but she tried not to. With the rage she could stop it. With the rage she could stop any feeling.

What sort of person was he to do this to them, to her? That was another question to add to the list.

"Why did he pretend to care?"

"Why do I think I know what sort of person he is?"

"Why doesn't this matter to him?"

"Why does he matter to me?"

"Why don't we matter to him?"

 **…** **oOo…**

Why?

That was the question.

And he didn't know the answer.

Ron Weasley felt like he had just been hit by the Knight Bus. His once red hair was now covered in dirt and mud, making it look almost brown. His clothes weren't much better.

The fact that he couldn't go back ruined him. But it also gave him strength. It gave him Fear. He couldn't go back, he had nothing to keep him from going back either. He only had things to keep him going forward. And that's how he survived.

He sat on the curb, watching the occasional car pass by, and wondered why he ever left. But then he thought of something, why didn't they ask him? Why didn't they see he was upset? Why wasn't be valued? What sort of friends didn't care to ask? Why did I abandon them? Why did they let me?

Now he felt the rage.

It started filling him up, like filling a bucket with water, it filled him until he was fit to burst. It took over like a raincloud, seizing the blue sky and drowning it in its darkness. It felt horrible, but he felt better.

He couldn't tell who he was mad at anymore or why but he felt good so it was all okay.

In a split second he had jumped form the curb, snatching up his few possessions and storming up the road.

The old Ron was gone now. Replaced with the rage.

As he left, he thought.

He thought about all of those innocent years at Hogwarts, carefree and fantastic. But that would never come back. He wished it could.

Ron laughed aloud at his own stupid thought. But it wasn't his laugh. It was a deep, scratchy laugh. It definitely wasn't his.

Why wasn't it his?

Life on the streets was hard, he didn't want to go home, he felt like he didn't belong there. He needed a place, just somewhere to stay. Somewhere that no one would judge him for what he chose to do. Somewhere that was familiar, somewhere that had someone he knew to help him.

And then he thought of it. Shell Cottage. It was a brilliant idea, as long as Bill and Fleur didn't mind. So that's where he went. After all, she meant nothing to him anymore. At least that's what he wanted to think. But she wasn't nothing, she was everything. Hermione Granger was everything. She was the sky, the sun and the rain. She was his home, his warmth and his love. She wasn't nothing, definitely not. She was everything. She had always been everything.

He couldn't stop thinking about her, he was sure she was thinking about him too. Or wasn't she? This thought brought him back to the rage. It frustrated him to the point where he couldn't take it anymore, and thinking about her just frustrated him more, why did we keep thinking about her? He didn't need her anymore. She was nothing!

Nothing.

Why was she nothing?

Why did she have to be his everything?

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 **A/N: I hope you all liked that little drabble, by the way THANK YOU SO MUCH to Lara (Lara1221) for betaing (is that a word?) this for me! I appreciate it a lot!**


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